Bound
by SteveGarbage
Summary: After being captured by the Inquisition, the Venatori mage Cassius Terro was given a simple sentence: Return home. An upstart Laetan adopted into a fading Altus family, Cassius had already risen high for his low birth. But with the Imperium divided into factions after the rise of the Elder One, he finds tangled in a precarious web - bound by his loyalties, duties and promises.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

He was bound.

Even with fires crackling in the braziers and the collective breath of the hundred-or-so onlookers gathered, the great hall of Skyhold felt cold. The fortress sat perched high in the snow-capped mountains, true. Summer in the south wasn't nearly as wet or humid as the weather along the bay of the Nocen, either.

But he couldn't rightly blame location for the cold that hung in the hall. It was the why, not the where, that attributed to the chill.

Justice was always served cold, he knew.

The guard tugged at the rope cord that wrapped his wrists, pulling him between the soldiers and nobles that lined either side of the hall, most of their eyes glaring at him.

They looked at his white robes and the thin armor that lay beneath it. They looked at the short-cropped beard along his jaw, shadowing over olive flesh. They looked at the heraldry on his clothes, the two twisted serpents that marked him as their enemy. If they could see the blazing sun medallion that dangled at the end of the thin chain around his neck, no doubt they would scoff and call him heretic.

He had pulled back his hood to expose his head. He did not intend to hide, from who he was, where he was from or what he had done.

The soldier gave a slight shove when they reached the front of the hall before the dais. He looked at the man seated before him, brown-haired, stubbled. The Herald wore no crown or circlet, no jewels, no heraldry. The man leaned forward in the rather spartan chair, a simple grey uniform. His left hand, over-turned on his knee, glowed slightly.

"Your worship, I present before you now the Venatori mage Cassius Terro," declared the Anitvan woman dressed in gold and jewels at the bottom of the dais as she referred to the listing on her handheld tablet. "He was leading a small contingent of Venatori in the Fereldan Bannorn. With aid from the local landholders, our soldiers were able to encircle and ambush his company. They surrendered after minimal bloodshed."

Cassius slowly bent, resting his right knee onto the floor as he tried to balance with his hands tied.

"Herald," he said as he lowered his head respectfully. "I thank you for personally sitting in judgment over me, sir."

"You may rise," the Herald said waving up with his hand. "But tell me, what were you and your Venatori doing in the Bannorn?"

Cassius pushed himself to his feet, straightening. He glanced for a moment at the dark tapestries hanging from the walls with their sword-and-eye and markings staring down on him. The stained glass windows behind and above the Herald glowed lightly in the overcast dim of the mid-morning. Hushed whispers indistinctly rolled through the hall as the spectators waited.

"We received intelligence that you were heading toward Crestwood, sir," Cassius said. "My orders were to intercept your party."

"Your orders were to ambush me?"

"Yes, sir."

"To what end?"

Cassius did not hesitate to answer. "To eliminate you, sir."

They had crossed the Fereldan plains until the rolling farmland began to give rise to hills. He had decided the rocky outcropping overlooking the highway would be the best vantage to land an ambush. The Herald was still two days out from their position when the local levies, bolstered by a few of the Inquisition's scouts, fell upon them at night.

His men would fight to the death, if ordered. But the Fereldans were many and the young lord was inexperienced. The young lord cursed him for cowardice.

The admission caused a stir through the hall, a rise of surprised chatter that was quickly quieted by the guard in the corner pounding the butt of his greataxe against the floor.

"You don't deny that you were sent to kill me?" the Herald asked.

"No, sir. My father raised me to believe that honesty is the best course in all things," Cassius said. "I take full responsibility for my actions. I am willing to bear the punishment. I only ask that the young mage who was captured with me, Marinus Arrentius, be shown leniency, sir."

The young lord was just a boy. He was only following orders. They were all only following orders. But someone would have to pay the price and he would rather it be him than the boy. Protecting Marinus, that had alway been the highest priority in the mission. Regardless of any other outcome, the young lord needed to be protected.

The Herald sat back into his seat, resting his right elbow upon the armrest of the chair as he brought his hand to his mouth to consider. The fingers of his left hand drummed along the knob at the end of the armrest on the opposite side of the chair.

In that moment of deliberation, another man stepped forward.

"Inquisitor, if I may?" he said.

Cassius' head perked up as he heard the unmistakable tone of a Tevinter accent.

Dark-haired like Cassius, olive-skinned like him too except with a meticulously groomed mustache. He was almost certainly a mage. Although his clothes did not belie it, the way he stepped screamed it. The width of his stance and the way he presented his body spoke of the rigorous training in one of Tevinter's Circles.

Before the Enchanters taught a single ounce of magic, the early years involved several unsparing months of etiquette. To be a mage was one thing, but to look and act like a mage of the Imperium was something more, something greater. Cassius himself had gone through those lessons several years ago. He could still recall the rap of the instructor's switch across his body to correct the small imperfections in the way his legs and arms moved, until they moved in a perfectly Tevinter way.

"Honesty, you say?" the mage said as he stepped in front of Cassius and looked him up and down. He began to circle him as he continued his inspection. "You're clearly not old blood of the Imperium if you still have any scrap of honesty within you.

"Therefore you must be a Laetan," he said as he reached out, squeezing Cassius shoulder as if he were inspecting livestock at market. "A fresh Laetan, I'd wager. Mother or father a mage?"

"Neither, sir."

"Neither?" the mage said with a slight tone of surprise. "First generation then?"

He tapped the toe of his boot against the back of Cassius' left heel, correcting the angle of the foot. Cassius had moved it, discreetly, and the man had spotted it. There was no doubt, now, that he was Circle-trained.

"Yes, sir. My parents are humble farmers-"

"From the northeast," the mage interrupted. "Yes, I can hear it in your voice. I hope not from near Qarinus?"

"East of Carastes, sir."

"Good for them. The Magister from Qarinus is quite an ass," he commented with some small glee before continuing along. "So a first-generation Laetan is willing to throw himself on the sword of justice to protect an Arrentius. It makes me wonder, then. Who are you to old Flavius Five-Daughters?"

How did he know of Flavius?

His patron was a Magister and a Altus, but he was barely known inside Minrathous and almost completely unknown outside of it, aside from around his villa in Asariel on the water.

This mage wasn't a Magister himself. There were only a handful of young men in the Magisterium these days. And even among those, Cassius was sure he knew all of them. Even if there was a name he had overlooked, what Magister would travel south to serve a false prophet of the Orlesian Chantry?

The mage came around his right side, one hand pressing into his lower back with another testing the thickness of his chest. He raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly. As Cassius considered, the mage began to lean, crooking his head slightly to the side.

"Come on now. What happened to that young Laetan honesty?"

His voice. The muted green color and the geometric pattern of the fustian velvet inside the collar of his shirt. His words. He had mentioned Qarinus, almost as if he knew it himself. Cassius looked at him once more and he could see the subtle resemblance there as he recalled the aged Magister's face.

"You're Dorian Pavus, aren't you, sir?"

The mage stepped back at that and crossed his arms. He scowled, then looked back at the Herald, who had been sitting quietly observing the entire exchange. The mage tapped his foot, crooked his head to the side again as he turned his gaze back to Cassius.

Then he smiled.

"Let me have this one, Inquisitor," he said. "Your spymaster owes me a favor after her birds shit on my copy of the _Tempus Infinitus_. I think I would like to collect that favor."

"Are you sure? He did admit to attempting to have me killed," the Herald asked.

"Only him and all the other Venatori and the Red Templars and countless others," the mage said as he began to untie the cords that bound Cassius' hands. "This Laetan isn't a killer, not really. And, if he does behave, well, you can just butcher the Arrentius boy."

Cassius hoped that was just dramatic speech. No one would summarily execute a prisoner as punishment for another's misdeeds. Well, they would in Tevinter. But outside of Tevinter? He hoped the southerners had a bit more naivety than that.

He could not necessarily judge the Herald's intent. Perhaps the man been moments away from ordering Cassius' own execution, had the mage not intervened. But perhaps the Herald did not carry such a heavy hand. He had, after all, spared Magister Alexius after breaking the Venatori's garrison at Redcliffe Castle. Why was not clear, only that he had.

The mage finished unwrapping the rope that bound Cassius' hands and tossed it over his shoulder. Cassius respectfully placed his hands behind his back without rubbing the chafed places on his wrists. The mage smiled at that as he reached up and adjusted the collar of Cassius' robe, carefully folding down the crease.

"You and I are going to get along wonderfully, I think," the mage said as he patted the fabric down and stepped back.

The Herald lifted his hand. "Cassius Terro, I return you to your cell here in Skyhold but place you under the supervision of my trusted companion Dorian Pavus. If you're willing to abide by what he asks of you, I will fulfill your request and extend a merciful hand to your companion. If not, you'll remain in your cell until such a time I deem it reasonable to release you. Is that acceptable?"

So he _was_ the errant Pavus heir! Magister Halward would no doubt be grateful to know the whereabouts of his lost son, if he didn't already know.

And yet, now Cassius' fate, and Marinus' as well, lay within his palms.

"Yes," Cassius said, bowing his head again. "Thank you, sir."

He bowed his head to the mage as well. "And to you, Domine Pavus."

Even outside the bounds of the Imperium, showing respect and deference to social betters was good policy. House Pavus was in the sky, miles above where Cassius' lowly name sat in the grand machinations of Tevinter.

The guard turned to escort him out and Cassius dipped his head slightly down to avoid most of the stares being cast at him on his exit. On the way in they had been confrontational, disdainful. Now the eyes Orlesians and Fereldans were filled with suspicion. Had he been thrown into a cell or had his head removed, they would have smiled and nodded to one another and commented on a job well done.

Now he was a Tevinter in the entrustment of another Tevinter. No doubt there would be whispers circling the court by the end of the day. Or at least, there would be if the Herald's court operated at all like Minrathous.

The air of the hall did not feel any warmer now without the looming prospect of a blade at his neck. The chill was just different now, knowing that uncertainty of his fate had been replaced with being cast into whatever manipulation the Pavus heir intended for him.

Dorian was at his side, shooing away the guard as he clapped Cassius on the shoulder as if they were old friends reuniting by chance at a roadside inn.

"Let's not ever call me 'Domine' again. I'm no master to you," he began.

"As you wish," Cassius said as they passed between the large open doors of the hall and out into the midday gloom of Skyhold's yard.

"You reek of the Imperium's propriety," Dorian said. "It turns my stomach, and not from some figurative concept of homesickness but from actual, literal nausea. But I suppose you were taught to 'Know your place' and 'Respect your betters' and so on."

Cassius didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing instead as he began to descend the steps from the main hall on the return trip to the dungeon.

"You're Venatori, but you're the first one of the Venatori not to walk into that hall with his nose in the air and some sense of undeserved superiority. I find that curious," Dorian said.

"I have nothing to gain through arrogance."

That caused Dorian to throw his head back in laughter, nearly missing a step in the process and tumbling to the bottom of the steps. He quickly corrected his gait, catching the next stair more solidly as he placed a hand across his stomach to try to stanch his mirth.

"Spoken like no Tevinter man ever," Dorian said as he wiped the corner of his left eye at the amusement. "If you sucked all of the arrogance out, Tevinter would collapse into a gelatinous pile like a man suddenly bereft of all his bones."

As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Pavus stopped and cupped his hand beneath his right elbow, adjusting the curled tip of moustache with his right hand.

"No, Terro, I think you and I are alike, despite our vastly different lineage," Dorian said. "I suppose the coming weeks will tell me whether my assessment of you is correct."

"Pardon my asking, but what is it you intend of me?" Cassius asked. That still wasn't clear. And yet already Pavus was making sweeping evaluations of him. What could he possibly know in the few brief minutes of interaction?

It was clear that Pavus held no love for the Imperium or his father, that much was clear. But why, exactly, had he fallen in with the heresiarch of the Orlesian Chantry?

And what could he truly know of Cassius? He was a Pavus, one of the Magisterium's most elite houses. He was the product of the union of not only Halward Pavus but of Aquinea Thalrassian and her family's deep-seated and influential imperial roots. Someday when his father passed, he was poised to inherit great wealth and power Magister Halward had been cautiously accumulating for years.

Cassius had grown out of a one-room shack on a small tract of land outside Carastes. His parents had little beyond their humble farming implements, the thatched roof above their heads, a few fatty pieces of livestock and their right to till the land. Had he not been blessed with the gift, he too would be spending his springs swinging a hoe, summers spent watering and weeding, autumns in harvests and winters waiting in hope that there would be enough food to last until thaw.

He hoped his parents had been able to put the small sums of money he sent back to them to good use. It had been years since he had last been home. And how grateful he had been when Valerie chose to take his younger sister on as a handmaiden in Asariel. Now Caela enjoyed the comforts of the villa instead of the hardships of the land, too.

Pavus smiled. "We can leave that until tomorrow. I believe you know your way back to the cells?"

He turned to return to the great hall, leaving Cassius alone at the bottom of the steps. A prisoner, unfettered, but still held. Even if he chose not to return to the dungeon, there was nowhere he could reasonably go inside the fortress. Soldiers patrolled the walls and even if he made it out the gate, the winding path down the mountain would only spill him into the Inquisition camp in the valley below.

For now, he would remain. He had little other choice.

"Pavus," he asked up the stairs to the retreating Magister's son. The mage stopped and turned. "If I might make a request?"

"Dealing in favors is a dangerous business," Dorian answered. "I sure hope you learned that during your time in the Circle."

He did, once or twice. And he further confirmed that Pavus was a perceptive man, knowing that Cassius had been Circle-trained.

"Would it be possible to get ink and paper, that I might write a letter home, to inform them of my whereabouts?"

"I'll see that some is sent down," Dorian said without even a moment's consideration, which seemed altogether suspicious. "And I'll even see if I can get it sent without the Spymaster pawing through its contents. Just this once."

That made the entire request seem even more suspicious and Cassius suddenly wished he hadn't asked at all.

Dorian turned again and continued back up the stairs to the hall. Cassius turned the other way, heading down the door in the fortress walls that would return him to the steep downward stairwell to the cells beneath Skyhold.

There was little else he could do.

* * *

It was evening when the guard arrived at the bars of his cell with the small inkpot, a pen and a few pieces of paper.

He glanced over his shoulder before he passed the items between the bars. Cassius took each, but observed the nervous way the soldier glanced behind him. Was Pavus breaking some sort of rule by sending the items down?

Without a word, the man turned around and left, back out of the door and up the long stairwell.

"What was that about?" Marinus asked from the cell adjacent to the right. The young man had been tossing pebbles out of his cell into the walkway, but it sounded like if he was now standing at the bars judging by the shake of metals.

"Just some paper," Cassius said as he crouched down to the floor, carefully setting down the bottle of ink before setting down the papers next to them. He wished he had a table, or at least, something more solid to write upon that the roughshod floor of his cell. But he would have to make do.

"Are you writing home to my uncle? Are these heretics asking ransom for my release?" Marinus questioned.

"Not yet," Cassius said. Perhaps tomorrow they would. What did Pavus want with him? Whatever it might be, if it could secure the young lord's release, he would be duty-bound to consider it.

"Then what?" Marinus pressed with little patience.

Cassius dipped the pointed tip of the quill into the ink, sliding it across the stone floor to test its point. The ink was good, the pen good too, as he swept the letters of his name in tight script. It was not nearly as nice as the good stationary Junia had gifted him for his name-day last year, but it was better than nothing.

"Just enough to send a quick correspondence home, to let your uncle know that we are safe," he answered. "We will find out more tomorrow, when Pavus returns. Until then, you must be patient, domine."

He could he Marinus snort derisively at the thought as he scuffed his boots on the floor as he returned to the back of his cell. The straw crunched as the young lord no doubt plopped back upon it. A moment later, a small stone skipped across the floor, followed by a long, annoyed sigh.

"Try to get some sleep, Marinus," Cassius advised as he dipped the pen to get a fresh bit of ink. "We will know more tomorrow."

He held the pen just above the page, taking a moment to consider. He would only get one letter and, therefore, could not waste it. If Pavus was true to his word, the letter might be sent without another set of eyes crossing it. But Cassius knew he could not trust in that word, as inviting as it had been.

Although sending it directly to Magister Arrentius might be most expedient, doing so could potentially compromise him. If the Inquisition was to send spies to shadow the letter once it crossed into Tevinter, they might follow it directly to him. Although Cassius expected him to still be at his estate in Asariel and not heading south to personally support the Venatori positions in Orlais, he could not be sure.

No, he would have to send it to someone else. Someone he could trust, someone who would know how to handle the situation and handle it with intelligence. There was only person who could fill that role, as he touched the quill to the paper and began to write.

 _Dearest Valerie,_

 _I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits. I assume the heat during this stretch of the summer in Asariel must be nearly suffocating. Even here in the south, the days become so uncomfortably warm that I long for the afternoons of our younger years when we used to sit under the pear trees in your father's garden and talk for hours. If I close my eyes, I can vividly remember the contrast of the white blossoms against the subtle wine-red of your hair._

 _Pardon the digression, but I find myself lately dwelling on such pleasant memory considering my current circumstances. While I hope this letter reaches you in comfort, I fear my accommodations are less than desireable. I write this letter from the floor of a cell, having been captured by the Inquisition while on assignment in Ferelden._

 _The Inquisition caught us unawares in an ambush and I surrendered our position. Without going into much detail, the Venatori hold in Ferelden has been compromised._

 _Let me first ensure you that I am being kept in fair conditions and am in good health. Although I am currently held under lock, they have treated me and the other soldiers who have been captured with dignity._

 _Marinus is with me and he, too, is safe. Although his mood is rather sour with our current situation, please ensure your father that I am doing everything in my power to see he is safely released and returned to Tevinter. Although the Southerners are aware of his lineage, I believe I may be able to negotiate his release without ransom._

 _With luck, Marinus and I shall be returned to you and your family before the harvest thanksgiving in Asariel. The prospect of seeing you again before autumn will be motivation enough for me to do whatever is needed to expedite our reunion._

 _I know that I have already burdened you with the unpleasantness of my misfortune, but I must beseech you for one final favor:_

 _Please relay this information to your sister, my precious wife, Andria._

 _I fear that news of my capture will put her in distress, and if there is anyone in this wide world capable of comforting her in her hour of need, I know there is no one more suited to the task than you._

 _In highest hope that we meet again soon;_

 _Your loving brother by marriage, but forever bonded to you by our enduring friendship,_

 _Caz_


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

The horses slowly walked along the path, not bothered by the snow and ice that clung to the ground.

Pavus had arrived in the dungeon at dawn to retrieve him. The arrival woke Marinus, who stood at the bars of his cell issuing demands about the conditions he was being kept in, about his mistreatment and about his deserved release. Cassius cursed every word the boy spoke within his head, knowing that it all fell upon deaf ears.

Pavus smiled and laughed at the rant and didn't respond to any of it, giving only a playful wave over his shoulder as he led Cassius out of the dungeon. Once in Skyhold's yard, Dorian quipped that he would be glad to be free to talk without the noise of whining children.

He had walked Cassius to the stables, where three horses were saddled and ready. Standing with them was a red-haired woman wearing a purple cowl, with a longbow and full quiver over her shoulder and a pair of long, slender knives crossed in sheathes at the small of her back. Her eyes glanced at Cassius, cold and calculating, and she said not a word.

Even half an hour out of Skyhold as they road up the narrow mountain path, the woman had said nothing. She rode a few lengths back behind them, keeping the same slow pace. Dorian led their small column, speaking loudly as he spoke of nothing in particular and nothing of consequence.

He spoke of Orlesian wine and cheese. He spoke of the collection of books in the library at Skyhold. He spoke of the southern cold and how, even after months out of Tevinter he could not seem to shake the way it pierced him to his bones.

He didn't speak of why it was he came south in the first place, what he had done since connecting with the Herald or what it was he wanted.

For an Altus heir, he didn't act much like the other Magisters' sons Cassius had crossed paths with during his time in the Circle, in Minrathous, or in passing in other locales. There was a certain disregard - or was it disrespect? - for tradition and etiquette in Pavus that confused Cassius. Had he run away as the rumors said, or was he banished?

He couldn't recall anything of Halward Pavus, other than his face. Serving as a page in the Magisterium had put him into contact with most of the Magisters, their families, their slaves, even their mistresses, in a few instances. Despite his standing, Halward Pavus had rarely dabbled in any of the more dangerous spats on the floor of the chamber. He stuck mostly to more mundane policy, although he took a certain interest in any matter that might bring more wealth to his holdings.

For a man like Cassius, of low birth and quiet demeanor, there was a lot to be learned within the back hallways of the Magisterium. Most Magisters did not guard their words as closely as they should, especially considering some of the things they said. A little eavesdropping was mostly harmless, he had found. At least, he had managed to stay out of trouble during his time of service.

Had he not be assigned to serve Magister Arrentius and impressed him, he might have spent another year or two running errands from office to office until he aged out and was shipped to some functionary position in the capital.

Instead, Flavius had taken Cassius into his home, shared the bounty of his house with him and treated him almost as if he were his own son. He could never repay the man for that kindness.

"Here we are," Dorian said from the front of the column as he pulled the reins of his horse and came to a stop, casually hopping out of the saddle to the snowy ground below.

The terrain had flattened a bit, but otherwise, there was nothing here. Was this all just a trick? Was everything that had occurred the day before been a ruse? Drag him out into the wilderness, deliver the sentence and roll his body off the side of the mountain?

If it was, he would at least walk toward his death with his head up. Cassius stopped his horse and dismounted too. Dorian had stepped away from his horse without securing it, but it showed no signs of leaving. Cassius let the reins drop from his hand as he followed the Magister's son, who continued to walk up the path.

"I find Skyhold terribly stuffy," Dorian said as he stepped off the path, trudging through the fresh snow off the right side of the trail. "I don't miss much of home, but I do long for the simple pleasure of the bath house."

As he stepped around a rocky cropping, for the first time, Cassius could see the steam rising off the pool of water nestled within the snow, and smell the subtle scent of brimstone. The water was a bit cloudy, with a pale haze to the otherwise cyan water.

"I assumed this would be a more relaxing place to discuss business than between the bars of a cell, or, honestly, anywhere else in the fortress," Dorian said as he leaned his staff down against the stones and began to unbutton his coat. "Nearly on the scalding side, but just right in the snow, I find."

Dorian pulled his jacket away and tossed it onto the snow haphazardly. He turned his head over his shoulder as he began to pull his shirt over his head. "Come on now, don't be shy, we're all men here."

Cassius turned his head to the woman who was traveling with them. She was a few steps behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. She was making no indication that she was going to join them.

"Don't mind her," Dorian said as he kicked his boots off. "She's just here to listen. I think."

Dorian unbuckled the belt at his waist and let his pants drop, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He looked over her shoulder to the woman and stretched his arms over his head, flexing his shoulders as he tightened the muscles in his rear. For a mage, Pavus did have a well-defined form.

The woman did not seem amused, as she narrowed her eyes into an eye more icy glare than she wore before. Dorian shrugged, relaxed his body, and slowly slipped into the water with a sharp exhale as his skin came into contact with the steaming water.

Cassius gave one more look over his shoulder at the woman, then began to peel out of his own clothes, slowly folding them into squares and placing them down on the ground, setting his boots on top of the pile. Last of all, he removed his chain and Chantry pendant and dropped it into one boot before slipping into the water himself.

Dorian had not been lying when he said the water was nearly scalding. As soon as he slipped into it, he could feel the abrasiveness of the water. The sulfur smell was a bit stronger within the pool, but he could also smell a saltiness like the sea.

The spring was large enough for at least another half dozen people, but Pavus had already chosen a spot across on the opposite side of where they had entered. So Cassius settled down where he was, submerging his shoulders. The woman was behind him, where he couldn't see. As Dorian's eyes glanced up and gave a subtle nod, Cassius assumed that was the goal.

"How is it?" Pavus asked, stretching his arms along the lip the spring.

"Very nice," Cassius said. "Warmer than the springs in Hossberg."

"I've never been," Dorian said. "The Anderfels always just seemed so… drab."

"It is a hard land, filled with hard people."

"To put it lightly," Dorian agreed.

Pavus tipped his head back, letting a slow groan escape his throat as he soaked. He dipped his right hand into the water and tossed some of the water over his chest, then scrubbed his palms across his breastbone before placing it back on the rim of the spring. He moaned again lightly, followed by a deep exhale.

And he didn't say anything else for a moment, then a moment longer. Then it had been a good minute of silence, aside from Dorian's pleasured utterances and the occasional splash as he tossed more of the steaming water across his chest.

Cassius would have leaned back himself to relax, if he had such luxury. He turned his head, looking back. The woman was still standing in the same place, observing, with the same look on her face. The wind blew, tussling the purple hood over her head slightly as a small strand of her orange-red hair slipped out from beneath it.

He turned back around, a sudden shiver creeping through him as he closed his eyes and rubbed a bit of the water across his face.

"Pavus, if you don't mind, what is it you require of me?" he asked.

Dorian sat back up at the question and leaned forward, dunking his head into the pool before tossing his head back, a plume of water flying off the top of his head. He ran one hand back through his hair, while the other curled the ends of his moustache back into place. When he finished, he lifted that hand and pointed it.

"You're the one who published that treatise about 'flow,' aren't you Terro?"

"I am," he said, a bit unsure.

What did that have to do with the Inquisition, or his current predicament? He had completed his study and written the essay during his penultimate year in the Circle. Several of the senior Enchanters were impressed by both the findings and the concise and clear way they had been presented. Discussion of it often included the phrase "just a Laetan" in one form or another, but overall its publication had given him a reputation. That was more than could be said for many students.

Most of anyone, Magister Arrentius was awestruck by it and it had give him further cause to open doors into his household even wider.

"Yes, when I heard the name I thought to myself, 'Now where have I heard that before?'" Pavus said as he placed his hand to his chin in thought. "When I read it, it seemed so obvious that I could hardly believe someone had not thought of it before. I, for one, had never thought of how much mana is wasted due to opening and closing the connection to the Fade in between spells. Tell me, how did you come up with it?"

Cassius didn't see how this was relevant to his question, but he could not decline to share. Knowledge was meant to be shared, that it might benefit all.

"When I came to the Circle, magic was entirely new to me. It was a phenomenon I was experiencing, truly, for the first time. The lessons of the Enchanters were helpful - I do not mean to diminish their contribution to my development in the least - but I soon found inefficiencies that, while they might not impede a more naturally-talented man, were barriers to my advancement. I made it a point to identify and address these problems, out of necessity, sir."

Pavus looked amused. "You saw a problem and you sought to correct it, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did the Enchanters say to that?" Pavus asked.

"They," Cassius started, recalling the many meetings he had with the enchanters to discuss his progress and time management, "did not see it as a particularly good use of my time. If I would just refocus myself on their lessons, redouble my efforts, I would soon break through, they said."

"Yet you continued."

"I surmised that I was not the first Laetan to arrive in the Circle and experience difficulty with the curriculum, no," Cassius said. "In fact, I was aware of several other students who had been sent home for inadequate performance. Most of them Laetan, like myself."

"You felt these problems were unduly dismissed by your superiors?"

"Yes," Cassius answered.

"They were ignorant of these problems, because they did not experience them themselves. Is that fair to say?"

"Yes, I believe so," Cassius agreed again. "Or, at least, if they had experienced them once, they had since forgotten about them."

Pavus stroked his chin with two fingers as he nodded. "And, in pressing forward without the approval of your superiors, you made a noteworthy advancement. One that, I assume, likely humiliated many of your teachers."

Senior Enchanter Troilus did try to have him expelled shortly after the publication, after he had secretly submitted it through Magister Arrentius to the enchanters at the Circle at Minrathous. Ultimately Troilus was outvoted by the others, resigned his post, and returned to his estate in Marnus Pell.

Cassius spent his final year in the Circle assisting many of the younger Laetans who were struggling, with many positive outcomes.

"My research aided many other students," Cassius said. "That is what is important to me."

Pavus rolled his eyes at that sentiment with a derisive snort. "While your treatise was interesting in reducing waste of energy, the technique does come with the tradeoff of increasing the risk from demonic possession. Or do you disagree?"

"Not at all, and I noted such in my research," Cassius said as he tried to quote from memory. "'While manipulation of flow casting, as I have previously described, can reduce inefficiency in spell formation and maximize available output, in light of these risks, the continuous draw upon the Fade and required focus to maintain such make the technique not recommended for extended use except by experienced magi or in conditions where ample precautions have been taken to ward against the denizens of the ethereal plane.'"

"To have such a significant flaw," Pavus said. "So, then those who call it a landmark discovery could only be described as overly enthusiastic about the promise of your technique. This is no transformative discovery."

Cassius shook his head, slightly, confused. Had Pavus asked him about his most notable accomplishment only to ridicule it?

"Forgive me if I have given an impression otherwise, but I don't believe I ever claimed my work was such," Cassius said, humbly. "It is not perfect, but I believe it has been of some benefit to the Circle and the Imperium."

Dorian glanced up, his eyes aiming over the top of Dorian's head and he grinned. He lifted his hands out of the water, palms turned inward toward his body as he bowed his head slightly. He was clearly gesturing to the woman.

Cassius turned his head to look back at her again and her eyes caught his for a moment. He felt unable to turn away from her steely glare, knowing, sensing perhaps, that this was the moment she was making her assessment of him, much as Dorian had done the day prior in the hall of Skyhold.

She said nothing, but nodded her head down, slowly, once.

Cassius turned back around. Had this all been some sort of test?

"If I might inquire again, Pavus, what is it you require of me?"

Dorian clapped his palms down on top of the surface of the pool, creating a small splash and sending ripples across the surface of the water as he now openly smiled.

"I want you to go home to Tevinter," he said.

Cassius waited, expecting further instructions than that. When none came, he shook his head slightly again.

"Is that all?"

Dorian laughed and gave a shrug.

"More or less, yes," the magister's son said. "There are only three things I require of you when you return to the Imperium."

He lifted his right hand, touching his thumb and forefinger together in a loop and lifting his three other fingers.

"One," he began, fluttering his middle finger before pulling it down into his palm. "You are not to return to martial service against the Inquisition in Ferelden or Orlais."

That should not be too difficult. The Venatori stake in Ferelden was shattered. With Magister Alexius imprisoned by the Inquisition, there would be a needed period of reorganization. The Elder One's first, Calpernia, likely did not know of him and likely would not miss him if he returned to Tevinter.

And after his capture, no doubt both Andria and Valerie would lobby their father to keep him at home, even if the Magister did wish to redeploy him to the field, especially with Marinus' fate still hanging in the negotiation.

"Two," he followed, fluttering his ring finger before retracting it. "At some point after your return, you will receive a letter, an invitation from a Magister requesting a meeting with you. You will agree to meet with her. Whatever you do beyond that meeting, I leave to you."

This demand sounded more suspicious. If Pavus were to arrange a meeting with a Magister, certainly it would be someone sympathetic to his cause. He said 'she,' which vastly narrowed down the roster of possibilities. It would certainly not be anyone currently loyal to the Venatori, such as Cressida Ceratori.

But it was the second part of the demand that gave him more pause. Whatever happened after the meeting was left to him? Could Cassius go and meet Dorian's contact, humor her, and then go along his way unbound to the promise? That seemed suspiciously careless.

"Three," Pavus said, lowering his smallest finger until his hand closed. He then rolled his wrist and opened his palm, holding it up and outright toward Cassius. "I would ask you only to do what you believe to be right."

Of the three points, the last was the most vague and unclear. Do what he believed to be right? For who? For the Dorian? For the Inquisition? For himself?

Cassius considered his open palm and the subtle, cunning, arrogant shine in Pavus' eye. He was certainly plotting more than he presented.

"Do we have an accord?" Pavus asked.

"If I agree, you will ensure that Marinus Arrentius will be safe?" Cassius asked, to make it clear. Nothing had been said of the boy and to carelessly overlook such a fact would be amateurish.

"Safe and sound and well kept," Dorian agreed with a nod.

Cassius still hesitated. "Your terms are… imprecise. What will you have gained if I meet your Magister, but then do not act in whatever way you predict I will? What if I merely return home after that meeting and remain there, with my wife and my family?"

"I suppose I would gain nothing but the ire of our dear Spymaster for letting go of a hostage without utilizing the leverage I hold I against him," Pavus said. "Beyond that, I will only gain doubt in myself that I misjudged you and, perhaps, am not as intelligent and cunning as I believe myself to be.

"And that, itself, would be a terrible tragedy to consider," he added with mirth.

Pavus had much to gain, perhaps, and little to lose except his pride and one, maybe two, Venatori prisoners of limited use to the Inquisition. Even if they were both put to torture for every bit of information they held within their heads, it would not be of much value.

Cassius could not only gain his release, but further ensure the safety of Marinus, as well. The unanswered question was what did he have to lose by cooperating with Pavus? That still had not been cleared up. It likely would not be revealed, not at least, until he met with Pavus' contact in Tevinter.

Cassius did not enjoy the prospect of being manipulated, but the dilemma was logically easy to resolve at this juncture.

He took Pavus' hand, clasping fingers, and shook it.


End file.
